


In Need of a Lift

by Verbana



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arthur is an insecure grouch, Fantasizing, First Meetings, Grumpy Arthur, Inner Dialogue, M/M, Merlin is a cool hipster, Tattoos, Trapped In Elevator, awkward arthur, with an active imagination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23235082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verbana/pseuds/Verbana
Summary: Trapped in a stalled lift, Arthur gets his chance to chat up the other (very attractive) occupant. It’s the old “love in an elevator” scenario… Or is it?
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 241





	In Need of a Lift

**Author's Note:**

> So, I really should be working on the sequel to Into the Tide (and I am!) but this plot bunny wouldn't stop gnawing. I told myself I could write it, if I kept it short. I just really wanted to subvert trope expectations and see Arthur doing some awkward pining for once!

He’d waited _ages_ for the lift, shuffling his feet, checking his phone, then pressing the down button again in case he hadn’t done it hard enough the first time. Finally, the light blinked on, the alert dinged, and the door swept open, depositing a herd of people on the fifth floor of the shopping centre.

And then Arthur had to wait _ages_ for the lot of them to finally clear out. The last was a mum with a massive orange pram who couldn’t seem to steer it over the grooves in the floor and the door kept jolting as it tried to close before the sensor kicked in and kept it open.

Arthur moved in and lifted the front of the pram so she could push it forward. It weighed a bloody ten stone, he thought, and child inside looked far too old to be riding in a pram. Arthur couldn’t quite banish the scowl from his face, even after the woman thanked him. He hurried into the lift before it departed again.

Jabbing the button for the ground floor, he crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. He’d be slightly late for fencing practice, and get some pushback for it, as the team captain. He’d show them all the new tool he’d just picked up at the sporting goods shop to improve his hand strength and they’d understand, surely. He could already picture himself wingeing to them about waiting an eternity for a lift and everyone nodding in commiseration.

But just as the door had nearly slid closed, a long arm thrust inside, forcing it open again.

“Sorry!” the intruder said cheerfully.

Arthur’s scowl deepened. Would he ever get out of this cursed place?

The young man pushing himself into the lift looked pink and breathless from his rush. Thick dark hair curled around his ears. His eyes were blue as a summer lake. He smiled at Arthur, full lips stretching into an enchanting curve. “Just made it.”

Arthur made a sort of grunting sound that could have passed for acknowledgement. Sweat broke out on his palms. He determinedly looked away.

Nonplussed, the young man moved to stand on the other side of the lift, facing the door. He pulled off his jacket and tied it around his waist. Arthur perked up at the rainbow patch sewn onto one of the jacket sleeves. He could just be an ally, not queer, but it lit a spark of hope in Arthur.

The man’s thin arms were covered in tattoos—intricate interlocking shapes and swooping lines. Arthur found his eyes following the patterns up to where they disappeared under the gray t-shirt. The edge of a tattoo peaked out of his collar as well, something like vines reaching up to the base of his throat. Arthur felt a bizarre urge to pull that shirt up and find all the hidden lines and shapes beneath it.

The silver ring on the man’s middle finger intrigued him as well. It looked like a beetle with a glossy green back. His long fingers tapped lightly against his thigh, against the fabric of his tight jeans. He was thin but fit. Arthur looked away again, face hot.

The lift shuddered suddenly and jolted to a stop. Then it dropped a little more, making them both stumble, before stopping again. A red light flashed on the control panel. The doors remained firmly shut.

 _Fuck_ , Arthur thought. Then a sweet realization washed over him. _Oh god, this is my chance._

“Don’t worry,” the other man said. “It usually resolves quickly.” His voice had a lovely lilt that plucked a sweet chord inside Arthur.

“Oh,” Arthur said. He couldn’t think of anything else to say, so he looked away, gathering himself. He’d make a comment about the man’s tattoos. No, too personal. He’d ask him where he was off too…but that might be too forward. Could Arthur find a way to introduce himself without sounding like a complete pillock? Past experience said, probably not.

Still, he had to try. He cast another glance at the man, who had taken out his phone and appeared to be scrolling through a music playlist. Arthur then noticed white earbuds tucked into his ears. He’d ask about the fellow’s music then. A nice, neutral topic. But would he be heard over the volume of the earbuds?

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, words dying in his throat. He pulled his own phone out of his pocket and pretended to be engrossed in swiping through his emails.

Perhaps he could ask for restaurant recommendations in the neighborhood, then casually invite the other man to accompany him. They could share a lunch of curry or paninis and get to know each other, flirting casually. Then an offhand invitation to a live show or the cinema, exchanging numbers, texting funny, clever things back and forth for days. Then meeting up for drinks and talking for hours (he’d have red wine and his new friend would have dark beer). Arthur would charm him with wry humor, but also slowly share his insecurities and fears. They’d commiserate and walk home together. But one kiss wouldn’t be enough.

They’d wander inside and slowly the clothes would come off. Arthur would draw up that soft t-shirt, tracing tattoos with his tongue, following every line, drawing out every gasp and moan until he made his way down to the belt buckle and worked open tight trousers. Of course, they’d try to take it slow, but they wouldn’t be able to get enough of each other and soon they’d be meeting almost every day. They’d meet each other’s friends and then families and everyone would ask, “How did you two meet?” and they’d smile and give the adorable story—stuck in a lift.

Or maybe he’d ask to borrow something. A pen? Yes! Then he’d use it to pretend to write a long, involved note, but it’d just be his mobile number and a flirty message—“If you’d like to be stuck with me in another small place, how about my flat?” No, too aggressive. “Sharing a lift is nice, but I’d rather be sharing a drink.” With a winky face. Ugh, too precious? He didn’t want to come off like a brainless wanker desperate to pull.

Or perhaps…trapped here for an hour, they’d just get bored and restless and the man would turn to Arthur with a sly smile and say, “Since we’re stuck here anyway…how about it, mate?” And Arthur would pretend not to know what he was talking about and the man would slide a hand up the front of his dress shirt and grab him by the collar and pull him in. They’d snog desperately, all hot mouths and eager hands, until someone on the intercom told them help was coming, and then they’d snog some more.

Arthur looked up from his phone, hopefully, but the other man didn’t catch his eye.

Then the lift jolted, startling them both. Gears whirled back into motion and they descended smoothly to the ground floor.

As the door slid swiftly open, Arthur felt his heart fall into his belly. What a daft ninny he was. He charged out of the lift, ahead of his companion, racing for the rectangle of daylight. How ridiculous to imagine he’d _fall in love_ in a fucking stalled lift.

His heel caught in the groove of the door and he fell face-first onto the polished floor. He couldn’t even manage to get his hands out in front of him in time. His face smashed into the ground. Pain exploded in his nose and mouth.

“Oh shit!” the other man said.

Strong hands helped Arthur sit up. Something pressed against his face—a handkerchief? He crossed his eyes to look at it. Yes, a neatly hemmed handkerchief patterned with what appeared to be Star Wars ships: X-wings and TIE fighters.

“Dank you,” he mumbled thickly, feeling as though his entire face was on fire.

“You should get that checked out,” the man said kindly. “You may have broken your nose.”

“I’ll be alright,” Arthur said, voice distorted by the swelling and the handkerchief. He felt any moment now he’d implode with embarrassment. He wanted nothing more than to escape as soon as possible and leave this entire wretched day behind.

The man gingerly lifted the bloody cloth away from Arthur’s nose and mouth. “Oh bollocks, what a mess you’ve made of your beautiful face.”

Arthur froze, barely daring to breath. His nose throbbed with pain and he felt a trickle of blood run down over his top lip.

“My flat’s just down the street,” the man said. “Come over and we’ll get you washed up.”

Arthur ought to tell him that he could just clean up in the public toilet right down the hall, near the service desk. He ought to disclose that he was late for his fencing club’s practice. But did he really want to brush aside this chance? He could miss a practice now and then, surely.

“Alright,” Arthur said, absently licking the blood off his lip and wincing at the sting of scraped skin. “If it’s no trouble…”

“None at all.” The man rose, offering him a hand to stand up. “The name’s Merlin, by the way.”

Merlin. Arthur didn’t laugh. It would probably hurt too much to laugh. He took the proffered hand and got to his feet. “Arthur,” he said in his garbled voice. “I’m Arthur.” Merlin's hand was warm and firm around his own. Neither of them let go.

“Pleased to meet you,” Merlin responded, with another bewitching grin. “I should warn you that my place is on the third floor. But we can take the stairs if you’ve had your fill of riding in metal boxes today.”

Arthur smiled back, despite the pain. “I don’t mind taking the lift.”


End file.
